


Worse-Case

by trufflemores



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Whump, amorphous timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores/pseuds/trufflemores
Summary: Amorphous Season 3 timeline.  Barry-as-The-Flash gets shot on the job.





	Worse-Case

The bullet punches into his left shoulder.

The Flash falls to the marble floor of the bank and red shatters across the broad fifteen-inch white tiles in familiar smeared speckle-drop patterns signaling a close-impact high-velocity entry-with-no-exit wound and his vision is grey and his hands are cold and he knows he has less than thirty seconds of coherence before the blood loss kicks in and there are loud voices and louder shadows as one-in-particular crouches over him and an officer's voice materializes and says, "Let's get you out of here, Flash."

The drive-over is a wailing siren and twisting in the backseat with his head pillowed on a police officer's jacket while his rescuer talks continuously on the radio and another unfamiliar cop keeps-pressure on the wound for him and it burns enough that he hisses through his teeth and tries to pull away but he is weak and they are strong and he will not make it through this if he succeeds even as pot-hole agony drives the pain deeper into his skin and no-hospitals-no-hospitals as they curbside at the ER.

Detective Joe West is there almost instantly but almost is not enough because there is a time where he is alone with the paramedics and Barry tries not to hyperventilate as they get him on a gurney because don't-take-off-my-mask is more pressing than I-can't-feel-the-anesthetic and it's ironic that he can't feel numbness but he wishes it was less so as he flinches from the needle that slips almost but not quite painlessly into his right hand, another into his left arm, and he wishes Detective West was there five minutes ago as they pour painkillers into him he cannot hope to feel.

Then Detective West is there and Barry instinctively relaxes even though the pain in his shoulder is excruciating and seems to be increasing and the thought of the bullet healing-in-situ is haunting enough that he makes an animal pleading noise let-me-go-let-me-go because he needs someone to be a barbarian and take it out without anesthetic and no one here will do it no one here can be persuaded to oblige until after it is too late and he does not have time for too-late.

Hands transfer him from one gurney to another in a stationary room and he knows Detective West is struggling to hold his ground against the five or six people already crowded around him but this is _The Flash_ and there are exceptions to every rule and then Detective West asks him a simple question Flash-what-do-you-need and Barry can't answer can't breathe but still forces air from his lungs to say, "Take it out right now."

They obey. Serrating screams saw the world in half.

Consciousness flickers like an old fading desk-lamp what feels like hours later but can only be seconds because Joe's grip on his shoulders is still punishingly firm and he moans and Joe lets go and cups his face mask-and-all and tells him, "It's okay" like he can make it so, "It's okay" as his thumbs brush the skin that is available to him, "It's okay" when the tears resume an unsteady trickle down his face.

No one asks about who he is underneath the cowl even though it is against protocol not-to-ask and they can't get his name but they get everything they need from Joe height-weight-date-of-birth (they-figured-out-blood-type-on-their-own) and Barry lies still and silent and prays to be forgotten to be uninteresting enough that they won't analyze him but he is compelling and irresistible, Flash-apprehended, Flash-in-pain, a rare phenomenon, a seemingly impossible trick, like capturing a myth in its tracks, and even they cannot subside.

Real-time hours pass like Speed-time seconds drifting in-and-out of awareness aware that every time he capsizes he may come to chained or in custody and it rattles him to think about losing control and keeps him awake long enough to promise not to let down his guard as he stares through bleary-golden-eyes at whoever meets his gaze only to slip inexorably, inevitably under.

A big warm hand is on his shoulder (not-the-one-that-hurts) and he keeps his eyes closed so the white passing-over tunnel of the hospital ceiling won't dizzy him and the fresh air is shockingly cold even though the night is lukewarm and the back of Joe's cruiser is as familiar as an old jersey to him and he aches to unwind and still cannot let go.

It takes fourteen minutes to get to STAR Labs and Barry's hands are cold and his back is sore and he doesn't want to move when the car stops moving but he must Joe insists it and he is no longer young enough that Joe can carry him even though he has never been too heavy and so he rises.

In the Cortex Caitlin checks him over and Cisco lets Barry crush his hand into an approximate powder of bone and Julian whistles low and Jesse keeps her distance and Wally tugs on one of his own sleeves.

Then Iris arrives.

Barry's world stabilizes when she places a hand on his knee and murmurs that she's there and he knows she is but he still needed to hear it and wants to hear her repeat it _ad infinitum_ because he needs her there forever and unconsciousness tips his tiny precious boat of clinging preservation and he falls.

A long, long way down.

When Barry opens his eyes, the world appears in sharp relief.

The beeping heart-rate monitor is familiar, as is the IV in the crook of his arm. The pain in his left shoulder is breathtaking but anticipated; he cringes but does not cry out. Without sitting up, he takes in the scene: everyone-but-Wally is immersed in some state of sleep, Julian and Jesse absent, Cisco dozed off in a chair, Caitlin moving slowly on her feet, Joe in a corner, Iris at his side, both anticipating unconsciousness. Caitlin has her back to him, and eyes mostly-closed Joe doesn't notice him, but Wally sees it when his eyes open and his own shoulders unfurl, relief and strength emerging.

"You're awake," he says without-meaning-to and the rest of the room takes it as a personal cue to rise. Barry makes a small noise of regret, _I'm-sorry-I-didn't-mean-to-wake-you-up_ , but Iris lifts her head and softens when she sees him and he cannot bring himself to regret the way she squeezes his hand gently.

"Hey, baby," she says like it is only-them.

"Iris," he breathes.

Her hand cradles his cheek; he closes his eyes without leaving her.

"You're okay," she promises, and he believes her, even though it hurts. "Everything's going to be okay." She strokes her thumb across his cheekbone; he tilts his head against her hand.

Joe breathes, "Thank God" and Cisco lets out a relieved huff of air and even Caitlin smiles and Wally steps forward and fist-bumps him.

When he comes to for real, developing the power to string together more than two-syllable sentences, he'll learn that the woman who shot him was opportunistic, and clever, and brought into custody shortly thereafter; he'll learn she didn't even have powers, unlike her metahuman cohorts, and that the bullet missed his heart by less than three inches; and he'll learn that it took them six minutes to get the bullet out.

But for now, all he needs, he has: his family is okay, and so is he.

That will always be enough.


End file.
